Three Conversations
by rebeldivaluv
Summary: Will, in the aftermath of Tattoo? What Tattoo?


**Title: **Three Conversations**  
Fandom: **Robin Hood (2006)**  
Characters: **Will, Allan, Robin, Djaq; Will/Djaq, Allan/Djaq, Djaq/Robin**  
Rating: **PG  
**Spoilers: **1x08**  
Summary:** Will, in the aftermath of "Tattoo? What Tattoo?"

Twilight has set in and the day from hell is nearly over before Will, Allan and Little John make it to the brook to wash off the filth and stink that cling to them. They move quickly, shedding their rancid clothes; the garments will have to be boiled before they can be worn again.

Without the sun to warm it, the water is icy cold. Will ignores the chill and scrubs his skin until it burns. Anything to rid himself of that smell. Then he dresses in his sole change of clothes, grabs the bundle of dirty ones, and starts up the hill back to camp.

"Hey, Will! Wait a second!" Allan runs after him, his shirt only half-on.

Will is in no mood to chat, but he obediently waits for Allan to catch him up. There has been enough dissension in the gang for one day.

Lacing up his collar, Allan falls in step with him. There is an awkward silence, and Allan is, of course, the one to break it. He is less experienced and therefore less comfortable with quiet than Will Scarlett.

"Look, I don't want to start a fight or nothing, but now that Djaq's back, don't you think we oughtta talk about – well, you know?"

Of all the events of this day, the one that weighs least heavily on Will's mind is learning that Allan a Dale also has feelings for the Saracen girl, but if it is bothering Allan, then best to deal with it now.

"What about it?"

"Well, I – I care for her quite a lot, right? But if it's gonna come between you and me, then I can step back. I've had myself plenty of women before, but I've never had friends like this. Don't want to lose one. I kinda like it."

Will smiles. If anything, he feels closer to Allan now than before. It is comforting to know he isn't the only one looking out for Djaq. "No danger of that. You are my friend no matter what comes. If she likes you best, there's no reason to give her up."

"Well, I wouldn't say she likes me best. Not really sure she likes me at all, really. Mind you, she was there for me about Tom." He gazes forward with a misty expression that turns slightly dreamy.

Will supposes Allan's imagining a rosy future with Djaq. He wisely keeps his thoughts on the possibility of such a scenario to himself.

With a visible effort, Allan shakes himself free of the fantasy. "The same goes for you, my friend. If she chooses you, why, I'll sing at your wedding feast, I will."

Allan a Dale is a brilliant liar. At times like this Will wonders if he is as good at deceiving himself. For if Allan feels one-tenth what Will feels for Djaq – and Will suspects it is much more than that, else why would marriage leap so readily to his tongue? – he could never watch her marry another.

"Djaq won't marry," is all the response Will chooses to give.

Allan blinks at him, surprised by the pronouncement. "Not soon, I know. But after the King returns, and we're all heroes instead of wanted men, then she could, you know, be a woman again."

Will marvels that a man can care so much for a girl and not know her at all. Has nothing today made an impact on him? "She is a woman now." A woman who fights as well as a man and has no interest in being rescued. A woman who wants to be judged on her merit as a person and not on her sex. A woman like Djaq would never be content to cook meals, weed gardens, and raise children.

"Come off it, you know what I mean."

Will doesn't, so he says nothing.

When it becomes clear he isn't going to get a reply, Allan goes on, "So it's settled then? Best man wins, yeah?"

Will nods and envies Allan his ignorance.

* * *

When they return to camp, Much and Little John have already turned in for the night. Djaq has fallen asleep by the fire. Robin sits near her, gazing at the fire, but his mind miles away.

In Acre is Will's guess.

"Well, goodnight, gents," are Allan's parting words, before he joins the others in sleep.

Will busies himself putting his dirty clothes to boil. Once the pot is on the fire, he takes a seat on Djaq's other side. He tells himself he wants to be sure the water doesn't boil over, but he is not as good a liar as Allan. His eyes rarely leave Djaq's face.

He needs to be sure of her – that she is here, alive and unharmed. He listens to the even rhythm of her breathing. He traces the lines of her face. They are different in sleep; the fight and fire in her every waking moment recedes as she relaxes. She looks much younger. And so very, very vulnerable.

When he thinks of what could have happened…his fists clench, his mouth feels dry.

"You really do love her, don't you?"

Will jerks his head up sharply. Robin sits on the other side of the fire, watching Will watch Djaq. Will makes no reply, but it hadn't been a question anyway.

"Why don't you tell her then?"

"Because I'm not the one she wants." The words are sharp – not bitter but accusatory – and it is too late for Will to call them back even if he wished to. He is not so sure he does.

To his credit, Robin doesn't pretend not to understand. His eyes flit over to Djaq, then back to Will, and his expression is almost apologetic. "Will, she's not – I don't – I would never—"

"I know that," Will breaks in impatiently. "You can't even remember she's a woman."

_You are thinking of just one man._ The words still echo in Will's head.

"Of course I know she's a woman," Robin snaps. "It was a slip of the tongue."

"I don't think it was. I think that's how you cope with having her here. Makes things so much simpler for you."

"I don't know what you mean."

"If she's a man, it's no bother that Djaq loves you. It doesn't have to be different than the way all of us love you – as our leader and hero and friend. No worries about broken hearts that way."

Robin looks astonished at the words pouring out of Will's mouth. Will is surprised himself, but he doesn't regret it. It is not some random heart at stake here – it's Djaq's. And if today proved anything, it is that she is everything to him.

"What would you have me do? Tell her she is not to love me because you are jealous?" Robin wants to sound sarcastic, but he merely sounds angry. His temper still lurks close to the surface tonight.

Will proceeds with caution. "It is not jealousy." Jealousy is what Robin feels towards Guy of Gisborne: a combination of spurned love, insecurity, and the fear of losing something precious. Djaq's love for Robin is that of a captive for her liberator; it is nothing like what Will wants from her. What he wants she doesn't have in her to give.

"But I worry about her. What happens when she realizes how little she actually matters to you?"

"That's not fair. I care about Djaq, Will. I do."

Will shrugs. "As somebody you saved, maybe. As one of your men, same as the rest of us. But you don't love her; you just want her to love you."

"And you want me to tell her that?"

"No." Will lets his eyes rest again on Djaq's sleeping face. "She'd leave."

She isn't like the rest of them. This is not her home, her fight. She stays for Robin, who she loves with all the chaste devotion of a nun for her Lord and Savior and all the fierceness of a soldier fighting for his commander.

"So if you don't want me to do anything about it, what was the point of all this talk?"

"To let you know I'm watching. To ask you to be careful of her. She may not mean much to you, but—" The statement lingers unfinished; the thought is crystal clear.

Robin is watching him sharply again, a quizzical look on his face. "What would you do, Will? If she left?"

"I'd follow her." There is not a moment's hesitation in his answer.

* * *

Will has always been a light sleeper. The paranoia that comes with living as an outlaw means he awakens at the slightest noise – which is why he is the only one to hear Djaq slip off through the trees before daybreak.

He stays motionless for several moments, inwardly debating whether or not to follow. It is more than possible she has gone to relieve herself, and he would spare them both that embarrassment. But as seconds turn into minutes and she does not return, worry prevails.

He sneaks away, using the tracking skills Little John has taught him to trace her path easily. He finds her kneeling by the stream and watches for a moment, confused, as she extends her left arm and rinses it off gently with her right hand.

A twig snaps beneath Will's foot. The small noise is enough to put her on the alert.

She turns toward the woods, hand on her knife. "Who is there?"

"It's just me – Will." He steps out from the trees, making as much noise as possible so as not to startle her.

Her hand falls from her dagger, but she raises a suspicious brow. "Still spying on me, are you?"

Will feels the blush in his cheeks and prays it's dark enough she can't see it. "I heard you leave; I wanted to make sure—" He stops. She will not appreciate his concern.

"What? That the little girl is all right without the big, strong men to protect her? I am fine! I can take care of myself. How many times—"

Djaq keeps ranting, but he has stopped listening. She is gesturing angrily with her hands; on the underside of her left arm, Will has spotted something red and inflamed.

Without warning, he takes her hand in his. "What happened?" He grabs her elbow in his other hand and gently forces her to turn her arm up to his inspection. Raw flesh, blistered and swollen, crosses the width of her wrist.

"What did they do to you?" Murder is in his voice.

"It is nothing." She jerks her arm free and averts her eyes.

"It's not nothing! They tortured you!"

"It will heal."

"It will _scar_."

"It will not be my first at English hands." She is glaring at him now, as though he was the one to inflict the injury.

He would gladly bear every one of those scars for her if he could, but he doesn't tell her that. She wouldn't understand. "Are you – is that – is that it? Did they…hurt you any other way?" Now it is his turn to drop his eyes.

A girl in Locksley Village had been raped by one of the soldiers the summer before Robin came home. The guard had not been punished. It was one of the thoughts which haunted Will the entire time Djaq was gone. If they had touched her… If anyone had…

Djaq sighs in frustration. "This is it. I told you all: they were more interested in my alchemy than in me."

Will's relief is something he can feel in his body. His shoulders relax, his spine bends; he hadn't even registered the tension there.

Now the worry is removed, he just feels awkward. It is obvious she doesn't want him here. He is intruding. But he cannot make himself leave her. He searches his brain for something to say and remembers what he saw when he came to the stream. "You were washing it. It pains you."

"I will take care of it. Do not worry." She turns to resume her task, but his hand on her shoulder stops her.

"I worry." The words tumble forth without permission, and the flush is back in his cheeks. To cover, he quickly adds, "Let me help."

She studies him for a moment, evidently confused. She doesn't understand him, which is just as well, but she finally nods her permission.

They kneel together on the bank, and he once again takes her arm. This time, she lets it rest there passively, and, despite his real concern for her injury, he relishes the feel of her soft, smooth skin against his rough palm. He draws her arm over the surface of the brook, then cups his other hand to rinse flowing water across her wound.

She winces, a barely perceptible tightening of her face, and then she relaxes and lets him tend to her. She, the physician's daughter, is entrusting herself to his untrained hands. Will finds a balm for his sore heart in that.

"Do you have something to wrap it in?" Will asks, after several long, yet too short minutes of silence.

She produces a cloth from her pocket, remarkably clean for a rag in these woods. He takes it from her and begins to wind it round her wound. His fingers fumble, and he knows she could do this much more efficiently. Yet she allows him to continue. He can feel her eyes on him, watching with open curiosity, and fights down another blush.

"I never thanked you," she says abruptly. "For what you and Allan and Little John did."

"We didn't do anything. You'd have gotten free yourself if it wasn't for us."

Djaq makes a small noise, a suppressed giggle. It causes Will to smile, as he knots her bandage. "Yes, but you tried, and that was kind of you." She disentangles her arm from his and stands.

No longer touching her, he feels a strange sense of loss. He stands as well.

"But next time? Leave the planning to Robin." She laughs outright as she scampers back to camp.

Shaking his head at his own foolishness, Will follows.

_**fin**_


End file.
